


a return to life

by siehn



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siehn/pseuds/siehn
Summary: The tavern door is open; the laughter still drifting out and wrapping gently around Fenris and he is pulled helplessly towards it.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Kudos: 14





	a return to life

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have never written for these two before, so please be gentle and patient while I figure out their voices! Also, this takes place in some nebulous, post-inquisition timeline of my own design.

Skyhold is almost enough to allow Fenris to understand the dwarves’ fear of falling into the sky.

The huge, open courtyard is emptier now than it would have been even a week ago, with the Inquisition forces slowly filtering out, their Inquisitor’s disbanding of the organization a relief to many. Fenris suspects it is only for show, if the way Varric talks is any indication; certainly, he has fielded a great many questions about Tevinter of late, and he is rather certain Varric has not developed a sudden personal interest in the place.

Still, the mountain air is clear and cold; the sun bright in the sky.

Fenris’s awe of the place is promptly forgotten, however, as he steps further into the courtyard and his ears twitch upon the sound of laughter. Terribly _familiar_ laughter – low and genuine, if a little more sad these days than it used to be. His steps falter for a moment as his heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he lifts his hand to press against his armor, the red ribbon tied around his wrist twisting in the light breeze. He has never once taken it off, even in the worst of his anger at being left behind again.

He closes his eyes and swallows, takes a breath and moves forward again.

The tavern door is open; the laughter still drifting out and wrapping gently around Fenris and he is pulled helplessly towards it.

He enters silently, wanting only to _see_ and the sight wrests his breath away from him.

Hawke is bathed in the warm glow of the fire, leaning precariously back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, irreverent as he’s always been. Fenris would know him anywhere, even without the Champion armor or his father’s staff. There’s still that wild head of dark hair and his beard is a little more scruffy than Fenris is used to seeing and –

The new scars weigh heavily – battles Fenris was not at his side for.

The chair thuds hard on the floorboards, startling everyone, but Fenris pays it no mind. Wide blue eyes have caught his, still as beautiful as the first time he saw them, in the Kirkwall alienage with a man’s heart dripping in his hand. Now, there’s just him, the red favor around his wrist, and still the man now standing across from him who he hasn’t seen properly in almost four years.

“Fen,” Hawke breathes his name like a benediction, and it sparks along his senses like the lyrium in his blood lighting up.

“I got Varric’s letter,” Fenris says entirely without meaning to, wincing a little.

“Which one?” Hawke asks, a little wryly, something sheepish lurking behind his eyes. An almost-apology, were he ever to actually feel sorry for choosing not to allow Fenris to throw himself into danger for him.

Fenris scowls a little, narrowing his eyes. “All of them.”

The first two had been only mildly alarming – Varric’s usual fare. The third –

The third had all but ripped his heart from his chest, leaving him screaming rage into the torn sky. Hawke, lost. Left behind to fight a demon, _his choice_ , Varric had written, anger in every sharp turn of his letters. There had been tear stains on the paper. Fenris had burned it.

Then, the fourth letter.

_Broody,_

_He’s alive, somehow._

Follow swiftly by another letter, in painfully familiar handwriting.

_Fen,_

_Come to Skyhold. Please._

He barely remembers the journey, still has that letter tucked safely away, like if he burns it, all of this will fade away into a dream.

And yet.

Here Hawke stands before him, looking boyishly small despite his actual size. He finds himself chuckling dryly, shaking his head.

“I told you it’s a gift,” Hawke tells him, laughing, though his voice shakes and his eyes are wet. He’s still, waiting.

“And I told you to return it,” Fenris says primly, but steps forward, lifting his hand to carefully fit his palm to the side of Hawke’s face. He watches Hawke close his eyes and lean into the touch, all of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders draining away. His hand comes up to grip Fenris’s wrist over top the red ribbon, and Fenris gently swipes away a tear from Hawke’s face. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Hawke,” he says quietly, ignoring the onlookers and their curious faces.

Hawke makes a small noise and finally moves, wrapping himself around Fenris and hiding his face in his neck. “You smell awful,” he sniffs, clinging harder. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” This, muffled, for Fenris’s ears alone.

There are many things Fenris _could_ say. Hawke left him behind first, after all, long before he slipped into the Fade with the Inquisitor. But he lets that anger fade in the face of having Hawke here, in his arms, a welcome, beloved presence. He did not think to have this again.

“Never again, Hawke,” he says instead of anything else, swallowing hard. “Promise me.”

It is a foolhardy thing. Hawke cannot promise –

“I swear Fen,” Hawke says, none of his usual irreverent sarcasm in his voice. Only a steady, abiding love.

Fenris pulls back only far enough to meet Hawke’s eyes before pressing their foreheads together. Hawke grins at him – a watery, happy thing.

“You’re never getting rid of me, now,” he teases.

Fenris smiles the smile he’s only ever given Hawke, a small, crooked, pleased thing. “Good,” he says, and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am, as ever, i-had-bucky at tumblr.


End file.
